


The Haunting

by prince0froses



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-29
Updated: 2007-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince0froses/pseuds/prince0froses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a stark dreamscape, Charles Foster Offdensen is haunted by an entity he once loved and thought he'd escaped, berated for the side he has chosen in the coming Metalocalpyse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this only having seen Season 1 and a handful of episodes of Season 2, so my random imaginings that imply ancient origins for Charles and Mr. S are probably shot by now. Originally posted under the now-defunct screenname onceihadadream on livejournal.

Infinite planes of ice and snow stretched before Him, no cruel cold wind, just the bite of nothingness in the air. He tilted His head to look up to the blackness above Him scarred with stars. It was a sight He'd seen in His dreams before: the void at the end of all things. With a deep breath, His polished leather shoes stepped forward for Him, headed towards the figure standing ahead.

He quirked an eyebrow behind the wire-frames of His glasses. "I see you no longer wear the armor, old friend." The tall figure He regarded was as cold as his surroundings, the dark hair and beard He remembered had gone white with frostbite, but the eyes had lost none of winter's sting.

"And I see that you know as I do what the armor of this century is." The figure spoke truthfully enough; both were clad in immaculate business suits, one a blue sharpened to match its wearer, the other black accented with a flash of red at the throat.

He stood still, holding His breaths and heartbeats deep within his chest as if to hide them from the figure who now paced slowly around Him, a predator eying prey. "You know that. But you are still a fool. Do you really think that you can save them?"

"What makes you think I'm in this for them?" He intoned, keeping His spine straight despite the shiver the figure's chuckle sent through it.

"Ah, but I have seen it. Why else plan such an elaborate counterattack against General Crozier, when you could have escaped yourself? Why else fight an assassin off two of them with your bare hands? You put up with their idiocy every day when you hold knowledge beyond all this insignificant human race. Don't lie to me and tell me it's the money..." the figure spat the word, "Time erases that just as it will all else."

"You wouldn't understand," He responded, contempt leaking into His words at last.

The figure stopped, staring down at the smaller man, tracing an icy finger along the beardless cheek. "Or I wouldn't remember?" The figure purred, closing some of the distance between them.

His knees quaked though determined to keep still. He glared at the figure even as His face leaned in, eager for the contact that seemed conjured from memory.

"The Metalocalypse will come, my dear. It has already begun. And there's not a thing you can do to stop it, or to save your precious little band."

The figure paused for a moment, watching the face before him, proud of the fear rising in the smaller man's eyes. The figure plucked the glasses from those eyes and tossed them away into the snow.

Startled, He missed the thick hand at His throat, teasing, then hoisting Him up. He gasped for breath, silenced as the figure's lips smashed into His. He pushed at the chest, yanked on the tie...anything to break free. But the chill violating Him with every movement of tongue sapped His strength until at last He surrendered to the figure's brutal embrace.

\---

Charles Foster Offdensen sat up in bed, shivering, He immediately reached for His glasses at the bedside table. He snapped His head to the window. Relief swept through Him, the starry sky still breathed with life.

He snatched up the phone, pressing the speed-dial number for Mordhaus' Chief of Security.

"This is Offdensen. Meet me in the Conference Room. We have a lot of work to do."


End file.
